


the space between the finish and the start

by erintoknow



Series: Aria-Rough Drafts [20]
Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén, Fallen Hero: Rebirth (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Implied/Referenced Abuse, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Slow Burn, Trans Character, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 05:35:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20755178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erintoknow/pseuds/erintoknow
Summary: a nice relaxing coffee date where everything is completely fine





	1. right where you are

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [[arrow by half•alive]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ob2uHIiW3II)

“Oh good! I’m glad I finally caught you!”

“Ortega.” You laugh. “Not everyone is glued to their phones, you know.”

“Mmm, true. But I wish you would call me back sometimes. I was starting to get worried.”

“Worried? Why? I’m not the one out there punching muggers and robots in the face before breakfast.”

“Ari…” Her voice sounds strained over the phone. “You told me you had people after you. Can you blame me for worrying if you disappear for week? And then something Herald said–”

“I’m fine.” You huff, switch which ear you’ve pressed the phone to, “and what’s this about Herald? Did he say something?”

“Well, no, not exactly, but–”

“Then it’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“Well… then that’s good. I’m glad. Actually there’s something I wanted to ask you, do you think we could meet up this afternoon?”

“We’re on the phone right now, Ortega, just ask.”

“I know it’s short notice , but it would be safer in person.”

You have to stop yourself from laughing too hard, still as techphobic as ever. “Alright, alright. If you say so.”

“What about Five? Memorial Park?”

“Wow, grim much?”

“Ari… It’s just a park.”

“Fine, fine.”

“Great. I’ll see you soon then.”

“Yeah, you too.”

You put the phone down and look at the pieces of your villain suit scattered around the storage shed. You better start packing you guess.


	2. the arrow in your heart

You slap your face lightly as you power down the sidewalk, sidestepping people with the temerity to be moving slower than you. Gotta focus. Remember: everything’s fine. You’re fine. It’s fine. She’s fine. Everything Is Fine. You don’t need to give Ortega any more reasons to be nosey into your life. You just need to get through this meeting, show how perfectly fine and normal you are and get her to back off so you can return to plotting her downfall.

You know.

Just normal villain things.

“Ari!”

You snap your head up, falter for a second and then the smile is back on your face to match Ortega’s. “D–don’t tell you’ve been waiting for me?” You laugh. A completly normal human laugh. “I always have to wait, like, half an hour for to show up to anything.

“Ouch,” Ortega squeezes your hand and for a moment you think she might pull you into a hug and you tense up. Instead she lets go. You let your hand fall limp to your side. Ortega shakes her head. “Never going to let me live that down huh?”

“Absolutely not.” You try to keep your smile natural.

“Too late to say sorry?”

“It’s too late for a lot of things.” You flinch, “Uh– I mean, w–well…” You trail off.

Ortega’s smile starts to wilt. “Ari…?”

You grip the edge of your jacket, push up your sunglasses. “Oh, w–w–what did you expect, Ortega?” So much for smiles. “Did you think you– you could… wave a magic wand and everything would be like it was b–before?”

Ortega frowns, doesn’t meet your eyes as she shoves her hands into her pockets in an unsettling impression of you. “Maybe? I thought things worked out really well with Angie, it was almost–”

“Stop.” Mentioning Lady Argent, twist the knife in your gut why don’t you. “That life is over for me. I told you.”

“Ariadne…” God, every time Ortega uses that name it’s like a she’s driven a nail through you, tied a red thread around your wrist, cutting through skin. She steps a little too close to you and you take a step back. “I know you’re trying to act like everything’s fine, but.. talk to me Ari, what’s going on?”

“I–i already told you.” Hiss the words through gritted teeth.

“That’s not what I mean. I could tell after you finished helping Lady Argent too. You just… seemed so…” Ortega grimaces, “hollowed out?”

You cross your arms, huff. “It always comes back to Hollow Ground with you, doesn’t it.”

She blinks in surprise. “What? Mierda!” She curses under her breath in more Spanish. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Throw your arms up in the air. “Fine! Are you happy! I’m some ho–hollow shell of a creature. Just let me live Ortega. Helping you out only made everything worse.”

She raises a placating hand. You hate this. You hate how she’s looking at you. Like you’re damaged. Broken. “Alright, we don’t have to talk about that. But why don’t we get some coffee and a snack?”

“Coffee? S–seriously?”

“Yeah, I’m starting to get a little hungry.

You grit your teeth. Why did you even come here. What were you even hoping to accomplish? “What? You think you can throw a candy bar at me and fix everything?”

“What? Ari, that’s out of line. I just want us to sit down and try and talk things out.”

You step away from her, glare up at the office towers that line the park. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Ortega’s voice is soft, fraying at the edges with frustration. “Ari, I think we both know that’s not true. I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine, Ortega.”

“Have you looked in a mirror lately?”

You freeze up. You run a hand over your face; feel the divots of the scar on your cheek. Your make-up is fine, right? Everything still in place? Heart’s pounding, feel sick. But you can’t be sick, not now not here, you’ll only prove her right. Squeeze tight, you spin on your heel at her, “W–what do you even fucking care what I look like!?”

Ortega blinks, surprised? Taken aback? Then her frown deepens, “Because I care about you, Ari? Haven’t you figured that out by now?”

You clench your hands, “G-g-goddamnit Julia! Ariadne is dead! Okay? She–she–she’s fucking dead!” You’ve raised your voice, people are starting to stare. Fuck. Fuck them. Fuck her. Fuck you. You spin around to face her. “It’s been years! W–we aren’t friends anymore! You can’t just– just swoop in after seven years and fix everything with a– with a hug and a smile!”

“That is _not_ what what I’m doing!” She’s crossed her arms in front of her now, you can see the anger in her face and your chest hurts.

“Just– Just shut up!” You snap back at her. At least if she hates you she’ll be more likely to leave you alone. Everything about her hurts in the worst kind of way; completely out of your control.

She narrows her eyes at you. “Real mature Ari.” She huffs. “You always do this, how could I have forgotten.”

You glare back at her, anger papering over anxiety. “Do _what_?”

“Act like people are idiots for caring about you.”

“W–w–well they are!” You grab at the sides of your head, pulling at your mess of uncombed hair. “I didn’t ask anybody to care about me Ortega! None of you should!” You’re an object, a tool, a weapon. You don’t deserve a single kind thought sent your way; they’re all wasted effort that should have been spent on someone human.

Ortega steps towards you, “Well, Newsflash _Ariadne_. You can’t control what other people feel!”

You face twists into a snarl “I– I–” You throw up your hands. “Well, I don’t deserve it!”

“Ariadne…” Some of the anger melts from Ortega’s face, and seeing it just makes you madder.

“Stop it!” You push up your sunglasses, cover your eyes with your hands, try not shake. You feel a little dizzy, faint. Breathing too fast now? “Just stop it! Stop fucking acting like your my fucking mother or something!”

“Maybe somebody needs to.” Ortega steps closer to you again, and you throw out a hand to ward her off.

“You seriously think I can’t handle my own problems!?”

“Ari.” There’s strained evenness to Ortega’s voice. “Can you _really_ look me in the eye right now– say you’re taking care of yourself?”

Glare at the sidewalk through your fingers. “Th–that doesn’t matter! It’s my life! N–not yours, okay!? It’s none of your– your goddamn business!”

You can hear her step closer to you again. “You’re my friend, Ariadne, of course it’s ‘my business’.”

You choke back a sob. “Y-you’re an idiot, you know that?”

“Ari…”

Vision’s getting blurry now, your going to get your sunglasses wet. “…_are_ we friends?”

You can feel her hesitate, arm half extended. Just what is she thinking in that static-filled head of hers? “Aren’t we, Ariadne?”

You let your whole body go limp, “I–I’m–I’m sorry, I just…” Ortega’s arms pull you into a hug and you immediately freeze up again. You let out a long, shaking breath, arms hanging limply at your sides. “I don’t want to fight you.” You say in a hoarse whisper.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” She lets go of you, but the memory of her hands on your back continues to burn. “You know I’m your friend, right?”

You take off your sunglasses, wipe the them dry with the edge of your shirt, careful not to pull up too far. “I… I don’t think I know how to do that anymore, If–if I’m honest.”

You look up at Ortega, sunglasses still in your hands and she’s smiling at you, this soft, small gesture with the tilt of her head and you want to cry again. “Hey, it never stopped me before, now did it?”

You shake your head at her. without your sunglasses on the light hurts, a little pulse of panic. “I still don’t understand it.”

“I think… you get it better than you let yourself realize.” Ortega pats you on the shoulder. “Now, how about we get that coffee and cake, yeah?”

Put a weak smile on your face, rub at your eyes before putting your sunglasses back on. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

You don’t usually bother with coffee, so you let Ortega pick one out for you. An iced Mocha with chocolate syrup. After a few polite sips you quietly resolve to never touch coffee again. The Chocolate brownie is better, and it comes a big enough size that you were able to split it in half with Ortega.

Sitting outside at a table on the patio, looking over the Memorial Park, you could almost forget you were in Los Diablos and not someplace out East. At least, until you look up and see the slight haze in the sky overhead reminding you: no air quality control laws.

Ortega takes a long sip of her coffee, creamer swirling in a spiral as you watch her. She puts the cup down and gives you a cautious smile. “Okay, so… take a deep breath, tell me what’s wrong?”

You bark out a laugh, sharp and bitter. Even with a brownie in you, you still feel drained out. ‘Hollow.’

“Ari…”

“I’m sorry– I just–” You slump over the table, head in your hands. “I–I–I don’t know. I can’t– I mean…” you glance up at her over your shades. “You’re– you’re right. There’s something…” You give out a pained groan. You can’t. You can’t tell her the truth. She’ll turn you in. Maybe she didn’t do it back then, but there’s no reason not to now. You’ve done a shit job so far of proving yourself to be stable. Trustworthy.

Well, you’re neither of those things, so fair’s fair.

Ortega watches you over the rim of her coffee, “Are you alright?”

You collapse, head against the table. “No. No, I’m really not.”

“And you can’t talk to me about it.”

Your throat hurts as you talk, too tight, voice pitching up too high. “I really can’t.”

“Okay.” Your staring out into the park and can’t see her face, but she sounds as exhausted as you feel. “I have to respect that.”

You close your eyes, maybe this will finally be the end this. Thank god. “Thank you.”

“I still think…” Oh no. “…you should talk to somebody.” Oh god. “A professional.”

You pull yourself up, give her a tired look. “A _shrink_?”

Ortega cracks a smile, puts down her coffee to rub the back of her neck. “It helps. It really, _really_ helps. Trust me, Ariadne. I know.”

“W–what? You never told me you– you saw a therapist.”

“I thought you had died because of me, Ari.” Ortega’s face contorts and a twinge of guilt goes off in your chest. “You and Themmy both.”

You frown, it takes an active effort not to dismiss the the idea out of hand. Memories of white walls, and bright lights. You push your sunglasses up against your face. “Th–that actually helped?”

“It did.” Ortega dips her head down to catch your eye. “It took awhile, but it really did.”

You sigh, chew on the inside of your cheek. Even if it did help, do you really deserve to be helped?

“If it’s a money thing, I can pay.” You blink at her. “Sorry, I just… I want you to feel better, okay?”

You swallow the lump in your throat. Anyone else in the world and you could reach into their head and wipe their concern for you away. But Ortega remains, as always, an unreadable buzz. And she’s…

You sigh, take off your sunglasses, blink against the glare of the sunlight as you put them down on the table. “Alright. I… I promise that I–I’ll talk to somebody.”

Ortega sighs, and then laughs, sitting back in her chair. “Oh, you have no idea how much of a relief it is to hear you say that.” She smiles at you and something in you makes you smile back, and for the first time in a long time it doesn’t feel like an act

“I’ll… I’ll be okay, I promise?” You bite your lip, was that a lie? “Things have just been…. really rough lately.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Ortega…”

What is that expression on her face? You’ve fallen out practice with reading Ortega’s moods. It’s only ever really been a skill you needed with her. She gives you another smile and raises her coffee cup at you. “How do you feel about meeting up again soon? I don’t want to go another seven years without keeping in touch.”

“Y-yeah. Of course.” You smile back at her.

“Good. To be honest,” she rubs the back of her neck, “I was beginning to worry that I was coming off as some kind of crazy stalker.”

You purse your lips. Suddenly the chance meeting the two of you had doesn’t feel so random. But… no. She wouldn’t? You shake your head. “Maybe a little. But…” A strange sort of warm tiredness fills your chest. “Thank you.”

“So…” Ortega looks at you, “There was an actual reason I called you here that didn’t involve getting into a shouting match with you.”

You tilt your head, still smiling. “Really now? I f–find that hard to believe.”

She laughs, “Hey, don’t be mean!”

“Alright. W–what is it this time? You need a telepath to help Chen find the k–keys to his power armor?”

“No! Nothing like that.” Ortega laughs again. “I wanted to ask, now that you’re retired how do you feel like attending a proper party?”

“I’m sorry, A ‘pr–proper’ party?”

“There’s going to be a benefit gala coming up. At the Heroic Heritage Museum? They’re reopening it now that the reconstruction is done.”

Oh.

You sigh. Focus on the melting ice in your barely touched Mocha. “I– Ortega, you know I don’t do that kind of thing.”

“I know…” Ortega’s smile melts into a slight frown. “But I thought, you’re retired now, no one’s going to recognize you.”

“On the arm of 2010’s best dressed woman?” As you soon as you say it you avoid looking at Ortega’s face, your own suddenly way too warm.

“Oh! Well, I didn’t quite mean it like that.” There’s an uncomfortable laugh. “I just thought it might be nice? And… it’s for you too, you know. You have an exhibit up there.”

You squeeze you eyes shut, trying to will the unease in your stomach away. Even back in the day she was constantly pushing you to accept recognition. She doesn’t know why you can’t. Doesn’t get it. “Sidestep has an exhibit. Not me. And Sidestep is–”

“–dead. I know.” Ortega’s voice is soft. Sad?

Ariadne can’t go to the Gala, no matter how much you might want to tell Ortega yes. You’re already planning to book yourself twice over. It’s not surprising Ortega was invited, but it’s another thing to know for certain that she’ll be there. You’re going to have to steel yourself for that fight. The idea no longer seems as satisfying as it used to.

Maybe… Ariadne can’t go, but Jane needs to get in somehow. The two of them have been flirting pretty blatantly during practice now that you’ve changed Jane’s schedule to overlap with Ortega’s. Maybe Jane could work Ortega into taking her instead? It’d be less suspicious than having to just steal an invitation.

Yeah… the more you think about this, the better an idea it seems. You can make this work.

“I’m sorry,” you peer up at her, try to smile again. “Maybe we can start with something more basic? Like dinner or something?”

“Alright,” Ortega nods her head. “Dinner some time sounds good.”

“Let me know when you’re free,” You shake the mocha, jostling the ice. “I’ve got a feeling your schedule is tighter than mine.”

That gets the laugh you were going for, “Yeah, okay. I will.”

“Hopefully the city stays quiet for a while.” You smile.


End file.
